


Bite

by orangelightsaber



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Anal Sex, Come Eating, Explicit Sex, First Time, Hux is insecure, Kylux - Freeform, M/M, Oral Sex, bottom kylo, drug use (in a way), incredibly self indulgent smut, people who don't know how to communicate well, some dubcon touching but sex is consensual, the force wants us to bone, uptight hux
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-23
Updated: 2016-09-23
Packaged: 2018-08-16 21:00:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,336
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8117443
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orangelightsaber/pseuds/orangelightsaber
Summary: Ren is acting strangely, Hux decides to find out why. Prequel to Lightning





	

**Author's Note:**

> enjoy this incredibly self-indulgent smut

It isn’t the fact that Ren is _attending_ the meeting that has Hux on edge. He does so occasionally, usually content to offer some trivial insight and gloat as through he’s discovered gravity itself—no, today it is his behavior that gives cause for alarm.

 

His actions are—for lack of a better word— _erratic_. Though Hux has occasionally felt Ren’s touch against his mind—light, questing, and assured to him by Snoke to be a necessity—today Ren is like a weight pressing down on him, curiously unguarded, and when Hux presses back he thinks might be skimming along the top of Ren’s mind himself, though all he can discern is the impression of disorderly space and his own name _Hux Hux Hux Hux,_ floating through the void.

 

It makes concentrating on the meeting rather difficult.

 

And then, somehow even more distracting, there is the fact that Ren keeps standing abruptly, holding up a hand as though he wishes to say something, and then swaying wildly and sitting sharply back down again. Each time he stands the room goes dead silent, and each time he sits again there is an eruption of nervous tittering.

 

After several instances of this Hux realizes there is no point in attempting to continue the meeting.

 

“Dismissed,” he sighs, defeated, and the officers file out of the room quickly. Ren trails behind, stumbling toward the doorway. “Not you, Ren,” he barks.

 

He stalks to Ren’s side, gripping his ridiculous cowl and shoving the Knight backwards against the wall. This is probably a mistake, he surmises, and perhaps one that will end with a lightsaber through his ribs—but for some reason, on this particular evening, he doesn’t seem to care.

 

“Is there some reason you feel the need to disrupt my meeting?” He growls.

 

The Knight says nothing. Hux shakes him as one might shake a dog that’s bitten them. Ren reels under his touch, head lolling strangely from side to side.

 

“Are you _drunk_? Kriff, Ren, you only docked an hour ago.”

 

The Knight shakes his head; the motion seems to throw him further off-kilter and he pitches forward into Hux’s arms. He’s heavy.

 

“Remove your helmet,” he orders.

 

He’s met with a choppy laugh and a muttered breath that smacks of defiance.

 

“Ren,” he says again, slowly, as it seems that the Knight is not listening. The weight of Ren in his arms is strangely satisfying, warm and heavy, the rapid beat of his pulse like the tick tick tick of the chronometer, it makes him feel small in a soft sort of way—he pushes the thought away. What in the galaxy could have happened to put Ren in such a state? Perhaps someone has murdered Ren and taken his place? Been suddenly overwhelmed by the smell of his certainly unwashed helmet? He shakes the Knight roughly. “Ren, helmet _off_.”

 

The Knight tilts his head back and forth, looking up at him like a child awaiting a bedtime story. He makes no motion to remove his helmet. Impatient, Hux struggles to sit him down against the edge of the table and fumbles for the catch himself.

 

“Are you ill? Why did you bother coming to a meeting? Protocol is to go to Med-bay you idiot.”

 

“Looking for you,” Ren laughs quietly, and squirms indelicately beneath Hux’s touch as the General does his best to remove the helmet. With it off it’s clear that Ren must indeed be ill, his pupils unusually wide and dark, his skin sallow, two bright fever spots flush at the top of his cheekbones.

 

“You’re sick.”

 

“M’not,” slurs Ren, leaning forward till his face is close to Hux’s own. “Your eyes are green.”

 

He seems to be delirious. Hux tells him so.

 

“No,” insists Ren, “Force users don’t get sick—Knights don’t get sick.”

 

Hux rolls his eyes. “Everyone gets sick, you horrible child. You’d better not be contagious.” He pulls off a glove and presses the back of his hand to Ren’s forehead—Ren tilts his head into the touch, smiling beatifically. He’s gone, shivering into Hux’s touch in a way that makes Hux suddenly self-conscious. He can’t decide whether he wants to slap Ren or stroke a hand down his cheek—perhaps both, one after the other until Ren is a sordid mess beneath him. His eyes tick back to the skin-skin contact between them and he realizes how stupid it is to take a manual temperature when the Med-bay is filled to bursting with thermometers.

 

“Alright,” he says decisively, pushing away these thoughts, this strangeness. “You’re going to Medical.”

 

It is precisely the wrong thing to say.

 

“No,” laughs Ren, and goes limp, sprawling himself back across the tabletop. “No, _Hux_. Came to find you.”

 

“And I am not a medical technician. It’s likely that you have a fever, you need to sleep and replenish fluids.”

 

“M’itchy,” says Ren, rubbing his hands out along the top of his chest. He reaches down and begins to tug the bottom of his tunic up over his body—revealing a long, pale stomach and a surprisingly toned form. Hux has heard the rumors, of course—no doubt started by Ren himself—but here he is, the ridged jut of his hipbones, the thick planes of his belly, the trail of dark hair from navel to--

 

Hux quickly pushes that thought away—marshaling it into line with the myriad of other lewd ideas that seem to have sprung up like a minefield—and covers Ren’s hands with his own, desperate to keep the Knight from his divestment. Oh the rumors that would spread, if someone were to look into the conference room now. Thankfully the door is near shut, with only a thin sliver exposed to the hallway.

 

“There’s no need for that,” he says as Ren continues to tug upward on the strange rough-spun garment, though he does not tear his eyes away from the sight of Ren’s abdomen—he deserves that much at least, for all the trouble he’s going to. “Let me call for the medi-droid.”

 

But, as he begins to fumble for his commlink, he catches a blush of blue-purple across the top of Ren’s ample chest, beneath the edge of the ridiculous short shirt he wears beneath his tunic. Hurriedly, Hux changes the direction of his hands, now helping the Knight to pull the tunic up over his head and rucking the short shirt up around his neck.

 

“Knew you wanted to get me naked,” mumbles Ren with a small smile as his head tilts side to side.

 

Hux ignores him and instead investigates the rash of bluish-purple bumps that has spread across Ren’s stupidly broad chest. They radiate outward from a central point—Hux remembers something like this from the Academy, _a warning_. “Kriff, Ren, you’ve been bitten by one of those beetles, haven’t you?”

 

Ren only grins, the tip of his tongue poking out between white teeth. His hand continues its tracing along his chest, slipping down until his thumb circles his nipple, working it into a stiff peak—he peers wickedly up at Hux, daring him to comment.

 

Hux’s mind goes helpfully blank at the sight and the lesson returns to him with a jolt. He hears his instructor’s voice: Vridoun beetles. Useful in interrogations. Their saliva may cause a loss of inhibition, rash, and mild fever. One to two bites are ideal for the extraction of information, as multiple bites can cause the subject to go into shock and eventually become comatose.

 

Ren’s other hand has found Hux’s waist, curving around until his hip fits into the Knight’s abnormally large grip. Ren sighs contentedly at this, “Small,” he murmurs, his other hand still tracing circles on his chest. “Small, small, small.”

 

Hux is unsure of what to do with such nonsense, but his body has other ideas. Ren’s thumb finds his hipbone and presses down and Hux’s hips jerk forward embarrassingly. The Knight arches his back, letting out a noise that’s almost a moan as he tries to resettle himself more comfortably on the table. His eyes begin to flutter closed.

 

Hux grips his chin. “Can’t sleep yet, Ren. How many bites did you get?”

 

Ren’s tongue darts out to swipe along the edge of Hux’s finger, leaving a wet trail along the leather. Infuriating.

 

He shakes Ren’s chin. “How many bites?”

 

“I guess you’ll have to find them,” the Knight sing-songs before bursting into laughter. He grabs Hux’s hand and runs it along his chest until Hux’s fingers meet the hot pulse of the first bite. “ _One._ ”

 

Hux pulls his hand away roughly. “This should be done in Med-bay.”

 

Ren hooks his fingers into the waistband of his leggings, tugging them down until they tangle around his knees.

 

 _Kriff._ Hux keeps his eyes carefully on the ceiling. Well, perhaps not so carefully, as he tracks the line of dark hair that traces from Ren’s navel to the top of his underthings. He sees no further bites along Ren’s torso or this thick white tops of his thighs. _Fine_ , if Ren wants to debase himself in a conference room instead of waiting for medical, who is Hux to stop him?

 

“Turn over,” he orders.

 

Ren obeys, bending nearly double across the surface and looking back over his shoulder, arching his back in a way that’s evidently meant to be provocative. His hands splay out across the tabletop, impossibly large. _Kriff,_ what Hux wouldn’t give to feel those hands on him, wrapped around his waist, his throat, his cock. He tears his eyes away. It won’t do to lose himself to depravity—he’s a General now, no time for dalliances, and _certainly_ not with his ridiculous annoyance of a co-commander. He ignores the ache that pulses firmly along his belly, and instead returns to examining the broad expanse that passes for Ren’s back.

 

 _There_. Unthinkingly, he reaches out to trace a hand along the blue veins of the second bite. Ren’s skin is flushed beneath his hand, hot even through the barrier of his glove.

 

Ren shivers beneath his touch, hips rocking forward against the table in an obscene jerk. “Two,” he whispers.

 

The blue-purple flush creeps shyly along Ren’s lower back, peeking out from beneath the edge of his shorts—oddly beautiful against the pink-white marble of his skin.

 

“Beautiful,” agrees Ren, but he’s not looking at the bite, his gaze fixed instead on Hux’s face, eyes wide and dark as the void of space.

 

There is a moment where neither moves. Not Ren, damp and shivering beneath Hux’s touch, splayed out across the tabletop like a feast, fit to devour. Not Hux, half-hunched over him, eyes fixed on Ren’s mouth—red and wet and shining in the harsh glare of the conference room lights—fingertips spread across Ren’s skin, feeling the rabbit-fast beat of his pulse against each digit. Hux’s knee is nearly between Ren’s legs, he wants to shove it forward, grind it up against Ren’s cock until he begs for more—but he doesn’t, holding himself perfectly still even though his body is screaming at him to act.

 

Unwilling to break the tableau, Hux uses his free hand to pull his comm from his belt and contacts Mitaka. “Lieutenant, I am requesting Medical to conference room 2464. Commander Ren shows evidence of two Vridoun beetle bites. Level three urgency.” He disconnects with a click before Mitaka can answer—uncaring whether the lieutenant will see it as rudeness or confidence in his abilities.

 

Ren shifts beneath his hands, turning back to face him—eyes desperate. “Hux,” he breathes, in sudden lucidity. Hux goes to pull his hand away but Ren holds it firm, turning over beneath it until it rests against his hipbone. Hux can see the flushed red tip of Ren’s cock, pulled taut against his belly by the band of his underwear, and his hips twitch as blood pools in his groin.

 

“Hux, _please_.” Ren begs wickedly—though for what Hux refuses to think about—head lolling back, unembarrassed of his wanton nudity despite the cracked door of the conference room.

 

Hux freezes and Ren’s mouth is on him before he can think. Lips crashing together, sloppy and ardent. An inexperienced tongue shoves its way into his mouth and he wonders if this is the first time Ren’s done this. Large hands wrap around Hux’s hips, tugging him forward until he’s trapped in the solid press of Ren’s thighs.

 

He should stop this, he knows—Medical will be here any minute, Ren isn’t in his right mind—but thoughts slip away as Ren arches against him, rubbing the searing line of his cock against Hux’s.

 

“Don’t stop,” says Ren, and rocks against him again. Hux nearly crumples against his chest—it feels good, _kriff_ , it feels so good. And how long has it been since he’s felt the touch of anything but his own hand? “You want—I can hear it. I can _feel_ it— _kriff_ , Hux, you’re so _loud_. How long have you wanted this— _hah_ —,” he moans as he grinds upward, hips stuttering in their desperation for more contact. “I’ve wanted—I’ve known since I first saw you. Cold and terrible and beautiful. A man who could destroy worlds. Who _will_ destroy worlds—I’ve seen it. I’ve shown _him_.”

 

He’s babbling now, but more coherently, sounding almost like himself again, except that the real Ren would never say such things about Hux, would never writhe beneath him, sloppy and desperate and undone, would never reach up to slam their mouths together again—except that perhaps he _would_ , because he _is_ , and its slick and hot and incredible—and all Hux wants to do is shove Ren down against the table and fuck him until he’s gasping.

 

Footsteps in the corridor.

 

Hux jumps back, hands planted firmly on Ren’s chest. “It’s Medical,” he chokes, doing everything he can to slow the rapid pace of his heart. And indeed it is medical, two techs and a droid, seemingly un-phased by a half-naked Knight and a General whose cheeks are flushed slightly too pink.

 

Ren grins, somehow in the intervening seconds he’s had the presence of mind to pull his leggings back up from around his knees. He looks obnoxiously pleased with himself as he continues to stare wolfishly at Hux.

 

“We’ll take him from here, sir,” says the technician, and he and the droid help Ren onto a gurney. “We’re quite familiar with Commander Ren in med-bay.”

 

* * *

 

Once Hux receives the message that Ren is firmly ensconced in medical, he returns to his quarters. He rubs his hand over his face as he sits down beside his desk. _Reports_ —that’s exactly what he needs to take his mind off of Ren’s behavior, off the physical memory of his touch, the way his eyes had gone dark as he’d pulled Hux down against him. The General squeezes his thighs tightly together as his fingers tap through the datamail, hoping that will ease the ache he is pointedly ignoring in his groin.

 

When’s the last time you’ve been kissed like that? He asks himself. When’s the last time you let anyone kiss you at all? He buries those thoughts under the steady drone of paperwork—procurement reports that need to be authorized, upper level complaints, Phasma’s newest set of concerns about the effectivity of the reconditioning treatments. It’s only moderately effective. No matter what he does, his thoughts drift back to Ren. Rash, impulsive Ren, the perpetual flaw in his plans—unable to take orders, unable to communicate effectively—Ren who does everything in his power to belittle and annoy Hux. He breathes heavily through his nose.

 

What was it that Ren had said? _A man who will destroy worlds._ The words echo in his mind. Unbidden his hands pull up the files he’d put away months ago—frustrated at his own lack of progress. _The Starkiller Project._

 

It must be several hours later when the lock on his door beeps loudly. _Kriff._

 

He stands with a jolt, nearly smacking his knees against the underside of the desk, and brushes his hands down his tunic to make sure nothing seems out of place—he holds back a soft shudder as the motion goes slightly too far, smoothing the fabric over his groin. He glances up at the chronometer— _late._ Perhaps it’s Mitaka, he often works far into the night and occasionally needs Hux’s authorization on whatever project he's filing.

 

He opens the door. It's Ren.

 

He’s dressed only in loose pants and his cloak, draped about his shoulders in a overdramatic cowl. He’s got a length of bandage wrapped about his torso, holding a pad of gauze against the bite on his chest. His feet are bare—he must have come straight from med-bay--and he looks marvelously disheveled, dark curls wild, eyes hungry.

 

“Can I come in?” he asks, more hesitant than Hux has ever seen him. There’s the curious feeling that he is, for once, restraining himself. A pink blush spreads softly across his cheeks and it makes Hux suddenly furious. How dare he come interrupt Hux after—and how dare he _look_ at him like that when Ren is the one at fault here, for—for whatever this is.

 

He pries his gritted teeth apart to answer. “You seem to have no trouble inconveniencing others by doing whatever it is you please, Ren, so I don’t see why not.”

 

Ren’s brow furrows at that, but he enters, brushing past Hux. The door slides seamlessly closed behind him.

 

They wait a moment in silence as Ren’s mouth opens and closes, working up the nerve to speak. “I came to finish what I—well, we—” he trails off expectantly.

 

Hux raises a brow at him. “Excuse me?”

 

Ren says nothing, but his eyes flick to Hux’s groin in a not insignificant look.

 

“Absolutely not,” says Hux, though his cock has other ideas, stiffening quickly after an evening of neglect. “Any misunderstandings that may have occurred earlier were merely the result of you being far and away from your usual presence of mind. I maintain that we put the incident out of our minds and never speak of it again.” He turns away, expecting that to settle the matter.

 

“It wasn’t a misunderstanding,” says Ren, stepping forward until Hux can feel the heat of him. “I told you, I came looking for you.”

 

“Yes, well—” Ren’s conviction is making Hux’s mouth unusually dry. There’s something about those eyes, and the way that Ren keeps stepping forward as Hux steps back that seems— _hungry._ “I don’t appreciate you disrupting my meetings, for future reference, and I—” His back thuds against the wall, having backed up as far as possible in the cramped antechamber he uses as his office. He can’t keep his eyes from Ren’s mouth.

 

“You’re a terrible kisser,” sneers Hux, dropping all pretense.

 

Ren’s tongue darts out to wet his lips. “Haven’t had any practice.”

 

An electric shock scurries down Hux’s spine. _Kriff_ that shouldn’t arouse him as much as it does. Of course Ren is a virgin, obnoxious as he is—who could stand him for long enough to fuck him?

 

“Maybe I’ve been saving myself for you, General,” he says, and laughs when Hux scowls. “Or isn’t that what you want to hear?”

 

“I’d prefer not to hear anything from you, actually, if I have the option.” They are toe to toe now, faces nearly touching. Ren’s lips are starkly pink against the pallor of his face.

 

“You didn’t seem to mind it earlier,” smirks Ren. He’s nearly pressed against Hux now shoulders swallowing Hux’s narrow frame. They’re of a height but Ren dwarfs him in broadness, something that shouldn’t annoy Hux as much as it does.

 

“Yes, well, perhaps I prefer you delirious and begging, hm?” He pulls Ren closer, tangling a hand into the dark threads of his hair to slam their lips together once more. He traps Ren’s bottom lip between his teeth and is rewarded with a sharp jerk of the Knight’s hips.

 

“Please, Hux,” gasps Ren against his mouth and its beautiful how quickly he falls into supplication. How badly he wants it.

 

“Mm,” replies Hux noncommittally, twisting his hand tighter against Ren’s scalp until the man whines beneath him.

 

“Please, Hux, I’ve—” And he’s pressed against Hux so hard it hurts, so hard that Hux can feel each throb of the Knight’s cock as Ren ruts against him. “ _Fuck,_ I need—I—”

 

“And why should your needs concern me, Ren?” he asks, voice steady even as his dick twitches in anticipation. He’d like nothing more than to see Ren, the eternal thorn in his side, beg for his cock like the desperate wretch he is. “What could you possibly offer that I could be interested in?”

 

“I’ve already given you—you started it again, the weapon— _Starkiller_ —”

 

Hux’s leg forces its way up between Ren’s thighs, shoving hard against Ren’s cock until the Knight falls silent, reduced to breathless moans.

 

“What do you know about _that_?” He punctuates the word with a further thrust of his knee. Ren must have taken the word from his mind, must be desperate now for some leverage to use against him.

 

“I’ve _seen_ it,” the Knight gasps, “Visions of you. Visions of it. A beam of red that cuts the universe in half.” His hands fumble at the collar of Hux’s uniform.

 

Hux’s brow furrows. “ _What?_ ”

 

“Why do you think you’re here?” Ren murmurs, lips sloppy against Hux’s throat where he’s managed to peel back the stiff uniform layers. “Why do you think He chose you?”

 

“I—,” sputters Hux, “I wasn’t _chosen._ ” He ought to push Ren away for that, but he doesn’t—instead he unwinds Ren’s cowl from its seat around the Knight’s neck, lets it drop unceremoniously to the floor.

 

“You’re here because of _me,_ ” growls Ren, dark hair like a curtain about the edges of his face, “I saw what you could be. I showed Him the seeds of greatness within you.”

 

“And _what_?” Hux splays his hands out against the broadness of the Knight’s chest, feeling the knots and ridges of old wounds. “You think I owe you something, is that it?” Ren breathes under his hands, overwhelmed by so much contact, so soon. His head hangs forward, hair tickling against Hux’s neck.

 

“No, I—” he begins, and shudders as Hux’s fingers find his nipples. Leather gloves circle each bud, thumbing at the soft flesh until it’s worked into a stiff peak. Ren’s voice is nothing but a low throb as he moans and the noise hums against Hux’s palms, vibrating up his arm in a way that gives him goosebumps.

 

“How long has it been since someone touched you, hm?”

 

Ren lets out a low chuckle. “I could ask you the same question, General.” His hands wrap around Hux’s hips.

 

“And yet I am the one on whom you choose to foist your attentions?” He jerks into Ren’s grip, entranced by the sight of the Knights hands, palms pressed into his hipbones. Ren ruts against his thigh, the iron line of his cock searing even through the soft fabric of his pants.

 

“Is that so hard to believe?” murmurs Ren, “Are you so determined to ignore the hand of the Force on you?”

 

Oh yes, of course, this damned mysticism again. Hux’s lips curl involuntarily, baring teeth. “Yes, well. I’m sorry if I remain skeptical that some mystical energy requires me to fuck you.”

 

“You’re welcome to be as skeptical as you like.” Ren’s fingers are moving in soft circles now, coaxing small whines from the back of Hux’s throat. It seems unfair that he’s able to do so working on no experience.

 

Their eyes lock and there is the sudden feeling of standing on a precipice—about to take the next step that tumbles them into some vast unknown. It’s as intoxicating as it is terrifying.

 

He feels overwhelmed by Ren’s gaze, and looks away. “Fine then,” he says eventually, unbuttoning his shirt until he is left half-naked—suddenly conscious of the thin, insubstantial look of his body. He keeps his eyes carefully trained away from Ren, unwilling to see his reaction.

 

He hears a sharp intake of breath and resists the juvenile urge to cover himself with his hands. “Yes, well, if you’d like to rescind your offer—if the _Force_ would in fact prefer that  _someone else_  fuck you—then I—well—”

 

“No,” breathes Ren and Hux feels something drop in his stomach. His skin goes clammy. “No, _Hux_ , I—,” and then Ren’s hands are on him. Eager and curious, mapping out the planes of his body as though desperate to touch every inch. “You’re beautiful. I’ve seen—I mean, in visions, but never so clear as this—” His fingers skip along Hux’s ribs like a stone along the surface of a pond.

 

Hux arches under his touch. There is a part of him that can’t quite believe that all this is real. Can’t believe some mystical vision has drawn Ren to him, can’t believe that Ren has somehow seen the word that beats in the hollow of his breast—the dark maw consuming flame— _Starkiller_. As though he can hear it, Ren’s fingers tighten around his waist and Hux’s skin seems to burn beneath them. His body goes hot and cold at once in adrenaline fueled confusion. Ren pulls away, but the ghosts of his hands remain—fluttering over Hux’s shoulders until he moans with the sensation, desperate for more.

 

His knees thud hard against the floor. His fingers feel impossibly heavy as he unknots the cord holding Ren’s pants and watches as they puddle to the floor. Ren’s cock twitches against his underwear, as impossibly large and ungainly as the rest of him. He grips the tops of Ren’s thighs as he leans forward to mouth at the Knight’s length--movements sure as he flicks out his tongue to taste the salt-bitter bead of precome that seeps eagerly through the fabric. After a moment he peers up at Ren through lowered lashes, anxious to see his face.

 

Ren’s brow is furrowed and his mouth hangs open, wet and shining. He shivers under the heat of Hux’s breath and his hands hang limply at his sides. Hux watches them curl into tight fists as he takes the head of Ren’s cock into his mouth and sucks firmly.

 

“ _Oh_ ,” says Ren as the heat and wet engulfs him, tempered by the soft weave of his clothing.

 

“Mm,” agrees Hux as he tugs Ren’s briefs down and lets his cock bob free, flushed scarlet and painfully hard. Hux hums as he slides his lips over the head of Ren’s prick, dragging the flat of his tongue against the underside. Its all Ren can do not to thrust into the heat of his mouth; his hips quiver with the effort of keeping still, unsure what to do. His hands spasm again and Hux takes pity on him, pulling one up to rest on the back of his head.

 

Ren sighs gratefully, threading his fingers into the short strands and twisting until they're tugged tight against Hux’s head. Hux moans encouragement around his cock and Ren grips harder, fucking shallowly into his mouth.

 

“A- _ah_ , oh, Hux, _fuck_ , ah—” Ren groans desperately as Hux slides fully down his shaft, pressing his nose into the taut plane of Ren’s belly. He pauses there and Ren writhes beneath him, bucking and squirming as Hux swallows around the fat head of his cock.

 

He pulls off and bites at the inside of Ren’s thigh, hard enough to bruise—a red stippled mark that Ren will wear for days. The Knight lets out a little gasp and comes without warning, striping the side of Hux’s face and one shoulder with come as he shudders through his orgasm.

 

“Kriff, Ren,” Hux scowls as he raises a hand to wipe away the mess, “It’s polite to give some warning first.”

 

Ren flushes but doesn’t apologize, instead grabbing Hux’s hand and tugging him upward until they are both standing. “Let me,” he murmurs, and begins to lick the trails of his own release from Hux’s skin.

 

Its simultaneously revolting and erotic, the slick slide of Ren’s tongue against his jaw, the way he tilts Hux’s chin to lap at the come pooled in his clavicle.

 

“ _Ha,_ ” huffs Hux as goosebumps ripple down his flesh and then “ _Disgusting,_ ” as he can feel Ren grin against his neck. Teeth meet skin and he groans as Ren bites down, sucking hard until Hux knows he will be bruised tomorrow.

 

Ren’s hands cup at the front of his trousers, palming his erection as they struggle together to undo the button. Eventually Hux slaps his hand away and does it himself, pulling down pants and briefs until they tangle about his feet— _kriff_ , he should have taken his boots off first.

 

Ren’s already tugging eagerly at his cock, too rough, too tight, too _everything_ and Hux thinks he might come then and there, waste himself in Ren’s grip. He pulls Ren’s hands away, leading him instead toward the bed, pushing him backwards until his ankles catch the frame and he tumbles onto the sheets.

 

A punch-drunk Hux stumbles to the refresher, knocking over bottles of pills, lotions, and sanitizer in his haste to retrieve the lubricant he keeps surreptitiously in his medicine cabinet. He returns to find Ren draped across the bed, starkly pale against the dark sheets—a marble statute shrouded in night.

 

 _Poetic,_ thinks Hux to himself, and then wonders if perhaps he _is_ drunk. Perhaps he is the one who was bitten by beetles and this is all some poison-induced fever dream. Ren shifts and lets out a soft moan, grinding himself down against the mattress and Hux finds he doesn’t care. Let it be a dream, let it be some strange magic-induced puppetry, let it be the will of the Force if that’s what Ren wants to tell himself.

 

Ren looks back over his shoulder at that, as though he can sense Hux’s irreverence. He locks eyes with Hux and flips over, taking his already half-hard again cock in hand as he arches back against the bedspread—looking somehow both vulnerable and dangerous, a trap about to be sprung.

 

Hux pauses, sets the lubricant on a nearby table and perches at the edge of a chair, finally taking the time to divest himself of his boots. Ren moans impatiently, working his hand more quickly along the length of his shaft. The thick, wet slapping sound intersperses with the small, pained moans Ren is giving. His eyes are locked on Hux; lips bitten and red. Hux allows him to continue, watching from the chair until Ren looks like he’s close. He stands.

 

“Wait.”

 

Ren’s hand freezes. “H—Hux, _please_ ,” he mewls, twisting his free hand in the bedsheets with the effort of not touching himself.

 

“Tell me why you’re here.”

 

“I told you—I’ve had visions—” His hand reaches for his aching cock once more.

 

“ _No_.” Hux kneels over him, pinning his hands and straddling his hips—holding himself up so that his dick drags lightly against Ren’s. The Knight’s face twists in anguish but he doesn’t move. He could, Hux knows, use muscle and bulk and the Force to take what he wants from Hux, but he refrains and that fact alone is intriguing, tantalizing. “Tell me why you came to _me.”_

 

“A-ah,” he moans as the wet tip of Hux’s cock drags down his shaft. “It—was you Hux. _Fuck_. It’s always been—before I even knew what I was seeing—who you were—I saw your face. And then in real life—you hated me—”

 

“Well," he gasps in return, "You do go out of your way to be obnoxious.”

 

Ren whines beneath him. Hux slides slowly off the Knight and reaches for the lubricant, slicking up his fingers. “Tell me this is what you want, Ren.”

 

“Oh, _kriff,_ Hux—yes, _please_.”

 

Hux drags slippery fingers up the crack of Ren’s ass. Circling his hole, pressing lightly at the mouth of it until Ren keens for more. His own cock is achingly hard, dripping in anticipation—leaving shiny-slick trails along the curve of Ren’s cheek.

 

“Promise me Starkiller.”

 

“Fuck, _yes_ , Hux—you’ll have it. I’ve seen it. You’re—its— _beautiful._ ” The tip of his finger breaches Ren, the Knight clenches hard around him, gasping and babbling. “Oh, _oh_ , Hux yes, more, please.”

 

“Promise me everything,” growls Hux, sliding in his finger, crooking it until it brushes against Ren's walls.

 

“ _Everything_.”

 

A second finger joins the first and Ren fucks back onto them, his face flushed with want, cock dribbling, red and tight against his belly, bobbing as he arches into each thrust. Hux scissors his fingers, opening Ren up until the Knight cries out beneath him, so close and yet so far from coming.

 

“ _Kriff,_ Hux, please—I want. I want you.”

 

“Yes, fuck, Ren, _yes._ ” He pauses, dragging his fingers across Ren’s prostate as he pulls them out. He slicks his cock and moves into position, spreading Ren’s thighs until he can stand between them.

 

“This isn’t some sort of ritual, is it--” He asks suddenly, freezing just as he’s poised to press himself into the grasp of Ren’s body. The head of his cock bumps against Ren’s swollen rim and the Knight _writhes_ , fucking back onto empty air as he gasps for more. “—deflowering a Knight?” He begins to work the head of his cock into Ren, not waiting for an answer. He huffs as he breaches the oil-slicked rim and is rewarded with the velvet clutch of Ren’s ass.

 

He takes a moment to steady himself against the sensation. It _feels_ like a ritual, a blessing of sorts, to be the first to have Ren—this Force-chosen being, strangely divine, anointed with oil—spread beneath him on scratchy regulation sheets. Ren pants beneath him. The hot, heavy breaths of an animal restrained. Hux strokes a hand down his back until he shudders, the motion rocking him back onto Hux’s shaft until they both groan at the feeling.

 

He has the sudden desire to see Ren’s face as he does this and, on instinct, or perhaps because he’s half in Hux’s head like the insidious child he is, Ren repositions himself –rolling over onto his side to peer back at Hux through lowered lashes.

 

“H— _Hux,_ ” he breathes, oddly sweet, and Hux begins to move again, feeding himself into the heat of Ren’s body—hot and slick and tight and it feels like— _kriff_ it feels like nothing else.

 

“More, Hux, _please_.”

 

Hux takes a shuddering breath and begins to move in earnest, hips canting as he plunges into Ren, the wet slap of skin on skin like an obscene symphony. For a moment there is nothing but the two of them, breathing into each other like an extension of the universe.

 

Ren comes again, quickly, and to excess, as befits him—half-sobbing with overstimulation as he spurts up along his belly. Tears glitter like corusca gems in the corners of his eyes, unfallen.

 

The Force surges around them; a hand engulfing Hux, squeezing him until his chest and throat feel so tight he forgets how to breathe. It's weird and suffocating and somehow, impossibly, perfect and Hux’s vision goes black around the edges as he comes harder than he can remember in his life, gripping Ren hard enough to bruise as stars dance before his eyes.

 

He collapses sideways onto the bed, softening cock slipping free of Ren with a wet _pop_. They lay breathlessly for a moment—limbs tangled, bodies shiny with sweat and fluids—and Hux thinks perhaps Ren isn’t so terrible after all. Perhaps he has his uses.

 

He thinks then that Ren must have heard him, because he laughs, a deep chuckle that vibrates through Hux where he’s draped over the Knight. 

 

Hux reaches over to re-adhere the bacta patch to where its corners have slipped free of Ren’s sweaty chest. “And the beetle bites? Were you simply working up the courage to proposition me? I imagine you could have just used alcohol, like a normal person.”

 

Ren flushes and scowls. “They’re a training device. To help bring on the visions.” He seems embarrassed for the first time. “Usually I’m good enough on my own, powerful enough, but with you everything goes—cloudy. There’s too many pathways there, or too much— _something_. I need help to see more clearly.” His scowl deepens. “The Knights usually make sure I don’t go anywhere until it wears off.”

 

Hux laughs cruelly at the mental image of the band of Knights chasing down their roving Master. Ren flinches at the sound as though struck.

 

“Oh come now, Ren. You must admit this whole thing is a little ridiculous.”

 

Ren, his mouth opens and closes as he tries to decipher a way to impress upon Hux the apparent importance of what they have just done. He can’t seem to find the words.

 

“Can I stay?” asks Ren after a moment.

 

Part of him wants to say no, but another part of him, a small, cold part—left alone and untended—wants to wake with Ren’s arms around him. Wants to press his face into the nape of Ren’s neck as he falls asleep. Wants _everything._

“Yes, Ren, you can stay.”

 

That night he dreams.

 

He dreams of swallowing a star, thick and hot in his throat. He dreams of choking, coughing, hot—aching lungs wheezing for air, parched as a desert. He vomits galaxies, a smoking cosmos streaking the night.

 

He wakes breathing hard, Ren’s arm draped across his chest, stifling. A glance at the chrono confirms he has hours left before his shift—he stares at Ren’s skin, each mole a dark star marring the pink marble of his skin. He reaches out to connect them, tracing a finger from dot to dot to dot.

 

_Kriff._

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> come hang out with me on tumblr, I make art and stuff 
> 
>  
> 
> [orange-lightsaber](http://orange-lightsaber.tumblr.com/tagged/my-art)


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